Birthday Camping
by starryclimes
Summary: America and Canada go camping for their birthdays. Canada doesn't know what to make of his brother's strange choice of giving up a giant birthday party. America just wants Canada to understand something he's hidden for a long time. Includes camping, portaging, a moose, and two dorks on an adventure.


Pairing: Amecan

Rating: T

For: kittens-everywhere

Prompt: America and Canada go camping for their birthdays instead of having a party.

Written for the Amecan Summer Exchange 2015. I hope you like it!

 **Birthday Camping**

"You can stop sulking now," Canada called out from behind the book he was reading, his glasses falling down his nose as he leaned down to get more comfortable.

"Idunwanna," came muffled from the other side of the tent.

The rain made a pleasant drumming rhythm on the plastic that enclosed the two of them from the outside world.

"It's so laaaame," came the wail from the other side of the dividing strip separating the two. It was shoved aside to show a face filled with dismay, a pout, and blue, blue eyes, which Canada simply enjoyed ogling. "No respectable true camper uses that!" A hand gestured at the offending item.

Canada set his book on his stomach and put his hands behind his head. He deliberately wiggled up and down making the inflatable mattress bounce with his movement. "Oh, this?"

America just stared at Canada, flannel sleeves rolled up to show muscles, lounging like a damn tiger on the giant queen mattress. Seriously, this is not what he had envisioned when he had invited Canada to join him on a camping trip and given up his birthday party of awesome.

It didn't help that Canada seemed to be trying to seduce him. What else would they need a mattress for besides having dirty wonderful birthday camping sex? But no, Canada had only read and made himself comfortable, no offers of mind-blowing, fun sexy times in sight. America pouted harder.

Canada sighed. "Come on, Al," he resorted to human names, "it was decided on in the beginning, and I think you can do whatever you want over there with your pet roots and rocks."

America stared at his heavy duty sleeping bag, lying flat on the ground. He did admit that he had already counted two pet roots, their name for the object that lay underneath the tent and poked up through the layers of cloth to where they slept.

Canada rolled over facing away, pulling up his book to his face and ignoring America's dismay.

America could only stare at Canada's fine ass as a wonderful, magnificent idea came to him.

-0-0-0-

They portaged to the edge of the states, and as the canoe slipped through dark blue waves into Ontario America could feel himself falling behind himself. Canada turned with a beautiful gleeful smile back at him and laughed with joy. America grinned back, it was this reason he had chosen this land to spend away from the usual work and life, and voyage with Canada. It was exhilarating to be away from the modern life- no cell phones - and only have just each other.

"We can be voyageurs." He had slipped into the old French used by trading posts and had not passed his lips for over a hundred years, whispering into Canada's ears, feeling the shudder of delight and adventure pass through Canada. It had made him want to kiss Canada so hard at that moment, but even the deepening of his brother's fucking amazing purple eyes and the sly half glance towards America's seduction, he couldn't bring up the courage.

He was the hero, after all. And he had failed. But what was he to do? Stumbling through gifts that people had sent anyway, and people calling to see when the party was even without invitations being sent out, he had packed his Range Rover with all the things he had not used since forever. No one believed he had foregone a party to do something else. He hadn't told anyone of his grand scheme of going camping with Canada except England, whose silence had reigned deep over the phone. "Both of your birthdays?" He could feel the old man's eyebrows scrunch and glare deepen without even seeing him. "You will remember Canada's birthday this time."

Man, people were jerks. It wasn't that he forgot Canada's birthday, it was more that he had been planning his own birthday celebration, and that took time! This year, though, all that stress was gone, and it felt as freeing as the brisk wind that was combing through his hair as he matched Canada's paddling stride.

-0-0-0-

He felt it before he said it. "How many miles to the portage?"

Canada turned, his brow furrowed, "we should make it soon." They had been setting a good pace, but now the wind had picked up to a steady gale.

"Do you see that?" America yelled, as the water turned choppy.

"Yes!" Canada sounded annoyed, but America knew he was paddling quicker.

"Shit." The storm came across the horizon, a wall of white showing the rain and wind, slowly obliterating their visibility.

Other voices came from the distance, and squinting America could see another canoe ahead of them, trying to make it to the next landing as they were. It was a group of girls, and the glare of their neon lifejackets was the only color against the gray.

The sudden slap of cold water, rain pouring down on them made America try to keep the canoe on track, feeling the wind trying to turn them around. The girls were having a harder time. "Hey! We will help you!" He heard his brother call across the roar at the girls' canoe which had turned sideways. The girls were panicking, and a paddle floated away.

"Help!" came the response, as the other girl who had lost the paddle started screaming since she had nothing to steer with. Panicking, she tried to move to the front of the canoe staggering toward her companion.

"No!" America yelled, but it was too late, the girls' canoe flipped.

Holding out his paddle to one who had surfaced. He yelled, "Grab on!"

The other emerged, and America tried to steady the canoe while pulling both of them up and in.

He watched as the other canoe was pushed far away into the lake by the wild wind, realizing suddenly Canada was still pulling them fast and swift across towards the flicker of light of the landing. He had not even paid attention to Canada as he had been saving the girls, but realized that his brother had held their canoe steady during the whole process.

-0-0-0-

"You boys were lucky," said the middle aged man, passing a flask of whiskey to them, "not all people on that lake are going to be so lucky."

America agreed enjoying the warmth sliding through him as the whiskey went down. The girls were being dried and wrapped up in the other tent by the man's wife and daughter.

The light had come from a family camping on the landing and the LED lamps hanging from the tent ceiling bobbed from the wind outside as America and Canada dried themselves.

"Don't get too dry, boys, we have to put your stuff away."

America rubbed his hair with a towel, noticing Canada staring at him. The tent flap was opened, and the man ran out to the other tent. "My hero," Canada said.

"Dude, are you mocking me, because that's just not…"

He was shut up by cold lips pressed to his own, slowly warming from the deep heat within Canada's mouth. America deepened the kiss, moaning slightly, as his tongue stroked Canada's own. Canada pulled away as the man was heard coming back.

America said, "You are my hero." It seemed faint and far away as his head still buzzed from the whiskey and the kiss. "I guess I'm portaging next."

Canada just smiled as they ran outside to take care of the gear.

-0-0-0-

A day on the trail, and America was so relieved by his super strength. He had forgotten why portaging was neither fun nor easy. Heavy canoe, Canada hiking with the pack, the slippery rocks, the roots that seemed to jump out and trip him (England would say that it was true), and people who had forgotten simple portage etiquette were driving him crazy.

"We are almost there," Canada said, his quiet voice competing with the forest birds.

"Good. Cuz I could eat a million of England's scones I am so hungry."

The amusement in Canada's eyes made up for the sweat running down his back, eyes and, well, everywhere.

Camp was set up pretty easily this time, and everything was working. Canada had coffee perking as America used the makeshift shower. Canada just wolf whistled as he walked to the tent with his towel on.

Geez, America's cheeks were red. He didn't know how to pull off his plan. He dressed again thinking to himself that they would have to do the wash soon. He put on his favorite hoodie, and pulled out his hidden weapon, a present from France, and dabbed cologne behind his ear, under his neck, and on his wrists and ankles.

"Dinner!" Canada yelled, or spoke more loudly than usual, like a mom to her kids.

"Yes!" America stumbled out of the tent, his stomach grumbled. Apparently Canada had changed after his shower in the open. So not cool, America pouted as he took some breakfast as lunch by the fire, what if someone had walked by and got to see Canada in all his glory?

"What's wrong?" Canada asked lightly, his face turned away.

"Shit!" America said out loud. "Nothing, nothing…This looks amazing!" He beamed at his companion who was now watching him.

"Good. Monsieur Voyageur."

America laughed. They sat and ate and just bullshitted and relaxed.

"Fuck yeah, this is the life," America said out loud.

Canada was staring at the sky surrounding the trees.

America gulped. He leaned closer, "Happy birthday, Mattie."

Canada startled, a slow smile edging over his face.

"Thanks, Alfred."

"Happy Canada Day too!"

Canada laughed, "Everyone will be celebrating tonight."

"Yeah?" America shifted nervously. "Hey, can you show me how to inflate that mattress?"

-0-0-0-

Canada was going to explode. He had had more exercise than he had since he and America had gone skiing that one horrible and fortuitous time, he had a birthday without Kuma, and he knew that his brother, who could build robots and fix toasters, knew how to inflate a plastic mattress.

Somehow he knew that America was up to something. He also knew that he was hiding something from America, so there were secrets abounding.

Sighing, and following his crazy brother into the tent, he wondered what he had gotten into. Happy birthday, he reminded himself.

The mattress was inflated until squeaky sharp and cover slipped on. America stood in the corner his hands in the pockets, and looking up into his eyes made Canada shiver. They held heat, a sharp throb of lust pulsed through him in response. He stood up from his crouched position and waited.

He didn't have to wait long, "Happy birthday, Mattie," America repeated in his ear, the breath caressing the small hairs by his neckline. America had crossed the one step to him in no time. Matthew inhaled in response.

"You smell good," He whispered.

"Yeah?" America's hands were roaming down toward his back. "It's something to do with notes…" It was breathy as Matthew's hands reciprocated the favor, tugging up the hoodie and sliding them up his back.

Canada's heart clenched. Stupid fool, he thought to himself. "France bought it for you?"

"Yeah," America was absorbed in pressing small kisses along Canada's jawline. "Are you upset?" America stood back, his sky blue eyes filled with worry. Darling idiot, Canada thought, so oblivious. And yet, he knew America played the fool for many things, but love was one that America still didn't understand.

"No. Jealous." He was blunt.

"Oh." America just stood there, his hands resting behind the lower back of Canada and pulled their hips together. "Well." A sexy grin flashed across his face. "Then you won't mind if you get birthday sex."

Canada smiled back. Subtlety and seduction wasn't America's finest skill. "I'd like that." He felt a tug on his heart. The sudden longing and desire hidden so long seemed to make his heart ache harder. "Really…"

"Yahoo," America said softly and bent in to kiss those beautiful lips. His brother opened up to the kiss, deepening it, letting his hands wander, cupping his ass and sliding inward to his thigh. America gasped the caress was repeated over and over.

Canada was in the haze of lust. America worked out at the gym constantly, and there was nothing more hot than rubbing his newly calloused hands over each toned muscle. They were rutting against each other, each thrust making America gasp. Mine, Canada though possessively, once was mine, now is mine. Territories and boundaries never felt so good as this.

"Time to get rid of this." Canada tugged off the hoodie. Pulling America's t-shirt and glasses off at the same time. Blue eyes freed from their glass filter now gazed at him with such lust that Canada pulled America into another fierce kiss.

"Happy birthday to me…" Canada actually said out loud seeing the blush rise up America's neck and face as he unbuttoned America's jeans and pulled down the zipper.

-0-0-0-

The days after Canada Day were horrible. It wasn't the weather; the sun was shining, the sky beautiful. No more storms came through, but it was just something. Arguments sprang up from minute things, who was carrying more, who would portage, and the exhaustion finally took over, meaning as soon as the tent was set up and the mattress inflated, it was flopped on and slept on.

Not talking for two days was wearying, Canada decided. He was used to being by himself with Kuma. And seriously, he missed it, this snarking and snipping at each other was just making the days pass horribly.

He had already reduced America to tears on one occasion, and instead of the rant making him feel better, he just felt horrible inside.

America was portaging in front of him and had stopped suddenly. Holding canoe paddles that Canada truly just wanted to snap into two and somehow teleport back to the Range Rover parked at the main camp, he stood there trying to figure out what was going on.

It looked like a girl, carrying only canoe paddles, had blocked America who was portaging a full canoe.

He had stopped to move aside for her, and Canada could see America's red ears under the shade of the canoe America was holding.

"It's my birthday!" America angrily exclaimed as the girl walked past. She ignored him.

Canada felt like someone had kicked him. "Do you want me to portage for a while?"

He saw America's shoulders just fall, and guilt flooded him. If he hadn't said "yes" to this crazy scheme, America would be at his fancy home having a party, drinking and getting presents and having a good time. Not stuck on the border in the middle of two countries trudging through the woods and dealing with stuff like this. Or Canada's differing ideas of how time should be spent.

America had gone fishing by himself and Canada had wanted to read the other day. The day ended up being gruesome, and not what either had wanted the trip to be. Not agreeing on anything, even what had happened on Canada's birthday had been argued about. Just sex. Canada's heart burned at the cruel words he had thrown at America to hurt him.

The woods around them were lovely, deep greens mixing with the golden sunlight that drifted down through the pines, the scent almost overwhelming. When they had gotten to their campsite and set up camp, Canada pushed America into the tent to sleep.

Then he went for a long walk, until his legs felt like rubber. He had to decide. The inner voices that had guided him since the early 1800s was warring with the common sense that this was not about conquering, or land, or even power. A fox ran across the path ahead of him and stopped. They stared at each other, and Canada knew what he had to do.

-0-0-0-

America awoke with his sore muscles feeling so much better. He showered quickly and realized that he was alone at the campsite. "Matt?" he called. He had been a huge douche the last couple days. It had clicked after the nap that this trip wasn't only about him. If Canada hadn't wanted to go fishing, he shouldn't have gotten upset by it. Yeah, he wanted to do things together, but maybe that would have been better to yell that he wanted them to be together than what he had said.

He still was upset about Canada's rant though. They were in the middle of nowhere. He understood that tempers could flare up, but it was just sex? That had hurt. He hadn't thought it would, but it had felt like Canada had bayonetted him in the heart, and believe it, America had been bayoneted for real. He knew others considered sex differently than he did, but for him it was special, and he really liked Canada. Really like him. He didn't like to think about it—but there it was hidden deep inside.

Bent over picking up fire tinder, he looked up to see a giant pair of animals legs. Straining upward, he realized that he was staring at a moose. A giant male moose.

The creature and him stared at each other. America breathed out, not realizing he had been holding his breath. "Moose," He whispered. "So cool."

"Matt!" he whispered. "Moose!"

He ran back to the camp, "Moose!"

Canada had returned to the camp and looked up to see his brother rush in crazy eyed. America did some helpless gesturing. "Moose!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Running back with him, Canada wasn't disappointed. The moose, for all America's yelling and flailing about, hadn't been scared off. It still stood there, eating and minding its own business.

"Whoa," Canada could only say, enjoying watching the creature.

"He's so awesome," America agreed. Standing six feet tall and having massive antlers Even America was in awe. The moose suddenly startled and took off into the woods.

America grinned at Canada, who reciprocated.

"That was sick," America laughed.

Canada said, "Maybe he knew it was your birthday. He came to visit."

America grin faded, "Nah."

"I'm not making fun."

America shrugged. Canada just reached out and grabbed his hand, warm and calloused, and perfect.

He tugged on America. "Come on, hoser."

America followed reluctantly. Letting go of his hand Canada went to the packs pulled up off the ground. He started to create the fire. Maybe he could ask now. His stomach clenched at the thought.

Canada came over with a box about two feet by three feet wide and 4 inches deep. "Happy Birthday!"

America just took it from him. "You've been carrying it all this time?"

"Yes." Canada scoffed. "Probably very stupidly. Usually like the things you typically do."

"Yeah." America's eyes shone. "Dude…" He breathed out as he tore open the paper. "This made it through all we've been through? For all this time?"

It was a box of fireworks, a shiny pack exclaiming so many fireworks for half the price. It was wonderful.

"Thought we could set them off at the dock, over the lake."

"Matt, you rebel." Canada laughed, his smile so beautiful that America wanted to keep staring at him instead of the fireworks.

"I love you."

It had come out quietly, as Canada's voice was wont to do. Canada felt the blush starting on his face. "I do. I love you. I lied to you about my birthday night meaning nothing because I was scared."

America stared, "But you aren't afraid of anything."

Canada laughed gently. "I was scared of this trip. Remember…"

The refusals and protests had been loud that day America had hunted down Canada at his Vancouver ocean house.

"But you just didn't want to go…" America found himself saying as a buzzing was raging through his head. Canada loved him, _loved_ loved him.

"Come here, hoser, idiot." Canada said sweetly as America found himself complying still holding his present. The gently kiss was placed on his forehead, then his eyelids, and then finally chastely on his lips.

"We should eat. I have hotdogs. Coke. We will be All-American."

America found himself smiling so broadly his cheeks hurt. Canada loved him.

"Happy birthday to me! Woo hoo!" He yelled, setting down his fireworks and holding his fists up Rocky style.

Canada just grinned, his heart beating triple time as he opened the pack of hotdogs.

-0-0-0-

Green light gurgled under the water as the screaming firework disappeared into the lake.

"Nice!" America lit a small red firework that ended up with a small bang against the night sky.

Canada reached for another, when he found his hand covered by America's. America was crouched down, his face shadowed by the moonlight. "I love you too." It was quiet, almost solemn, " I love you, I didn't mean to forget to tell you."

Canada laughed. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

—–

Author's notes:

-About portaging: wiki/Portage portaging/

\- I envision them near Voyageurs Nat'l Park or BWCA.

\- I have America and Canada taking more than really should be taken on a portage trip because the packs would be insanely heavy, but they have super strength.

-I also think that both of them are old men at heart and love the idea of sleeping on a mattress than on the ground.

-I stole the story of the rude portaging girl from a portaging etiquette site

-In the Northeast, Midwest and Plains tribes: Fox is generally a minor animal spirit associated with intelligence and wisdom, who occasionally help people or animals to solve a problem or punishes somebody careless or arrogant.


End file.
